“Of course,” Zeus replied to his initial question. Well, and it worked for the final question as well. Zeus wasn't entirely certain if that was intended as a question or not, but that's how it came out and therefore how he was going to interpret it. “Everything has it's opposite number. We can give or we can take away.” Why this was such a foreign concept to Deimos the King of Olympus didn't understand. Ares was a walking contradiction: he was courage and he was cowardice, just as an example. “All gods can do it. Just as your father can bring war, can he not also divert it if he chooses, or keep it at bay?” Not that Ares would, but the possibility was there.
Zeus would say one last thing to drive the point home, then he was going to wash his hands of the conversation. Though, it seemed at least something was awakening in his grandson. Perhaps the conversation was not lost. Perhaps Deimos would expand his horizons. “Why do you think mortals sacrifice and libate to us, wishing for our benevolence or in an attempt to assuage our wrath? It's to cover whichever end of the spectrum they want to see us from.”
He folded his hands together for a moment, then added, “I want you to think on this for a while. Chew on it, swallow it... let it settle in you. Then, and only then, do I want you to decide if you are going to finish this 'no survivors' nonsense on order of your father.”
Then he considered something, with a bit of a smile, “Besides, if you kill them all, who will tell the story of what happened?”